Just over a week ago I left for my niece's wedding in the Rocky Mountains. I do love the Rocky Mountains, by the way. They were gorgeous, rugged, and topped with snow at various points. My cute little niece was bouncy and bubbly, when not vexed and over-stressed with all the last minute things to do--while patiently giving up seeing her intended for a full week so he could complete his quotas for chosen career field--insurance. He worked like a demon, from what I heard, and it was said that since he rarely slept or shaved over the long ordeal . . . well, he might have looked a little rough. However, by doing so and going above and beyond the required quota of writing policies or whatever, his superiors were most impressed and he got the career path he was shooting for--as I understand it.
In the meantime . . . I slaved over the cake baking chores as best I could while enjoying several hours of visiting with my delightful nephews--brothers of the bride and the parents--my baby sister and her husband. The day before the wedding, I think I racked up close to 14 hours (or more) of cake baking, icing making, cake frosting, ganache making, mumbling and grumbling when the ganache bled through the white frosting/icing whatever you like to call the sticky sweet stuff and had me nearly in tears. I've never combined ganache filling and topping with white iced sides on a cake. Shoot! I've never made a 14" layer (or two together for one tier) kind of layer for a wedding cake before. Have I? Hmmmmm. Let's see. Ummmmm. Maybe. Perhaps the bottom layer of my daughter's carrot cake wedding cake 11 years ago was 15" in diameter. Yes. Maybe so. So, you see, I've never made a 14 incher prior to last Friday. This tier of the cake was a Devil's food, and very moist. The middle tier was only 10" in diameter and a marble cake (2 layers deep) with the same icing and ganache. The top tier (which is kind of misleading, I think. Each tier was resting on a different satin draped pedestal; each pedestal of a different height.) was a white cake with the same treatment as the other two tiers.
Late that night (very late that night--around 11:30 pm) we delivered the cake to the refrigerator at the Church. I was majorly relieved!!!!! And NOTHING fell apart!! It was wonderful!!!
The following day was the wedding. The Maid of Honor came. She was a darling girl and just what the bride needed to assist in calming and directing her for the remainder of the day--at least till the groom took over.
Surly there've been few brides as bouncy, giggly and delighted to be marrying the man of her dreams as my niece. She--and he--radiated--and they couldn't stop kissing each other. Strange behavior, if you ask me. You know, for a newly married couple to just kissy-face all over the place like that. Strange. Very strange. *smirk*
The reception was very lovely. Decorations were elegant. The cake garnered several compliments--which was nice--even if the bride already gushed her thanks. I was very blessed to have participated in the whole thing.
As another bonus, I was able to visit with my Mother, who's birthday was the day before the wedding--another nephew and his lovely wife hosted a party for Mom on Monday. It was well attended and quite enjoyable for all of us. Mom beamed while surrounded by many--though a small portion--of her posterity of over 100 individuals. If I remember correctly (and she remembered correctly) there are closer to 175 grandchildren and great-grandchildren combined.
We experienced snow from Sunday evening through most of Monday. Got around 4-6 inches. It's been quite a while since my last experience with lots of snow!
But now I'm home with storms raging outside of another sort . . . we're under Sever Weather Warnings, Tornado Watches and Warnings. And my throat is sore. And I'm not sure if my migraine ever completely left from last week and yesterday. Anyway, I'm back home and happy.
Showing posts with label birthdays. Show all posts
Showing posts with label birthdays. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Monday, January 12, 2009
Over the Hill
I'm happy to report to family and friends I have made it over the hill--without too much trouble, tumbling, or scrapes--since Christmas Day, anyway. It's odd how one goes about thinking of Birthdays and Years on this planet, etc. At 5, I remember being terribly envious of people--anyone--taller than me. I was very tiny at 5 and had trouble reaching most things. I must not have weighed much either, because one day while waiting for a bus with my older sister and some of our friends, the wind was a little blustery that day and, since there was some rain involved and I had a parasol, I found out how vulnerable a small girl could be. I was literally being "blown away" until an older boy, Bill Terrel, who was 8 rescued me from the wind and won my eternal gratitude. Some time after that, Bill, my hero, also gave me my very first kiss. Yes, on the mouth. I was totally, and irrevocably in love at 5. I saw him again when I was 15 and he 18 and, man! In ten years time he was at least 10 times better looking. But, I digress.
At age 5 I knew I could do ANYTHING if I were only taller. I especially envied teenagers their height and ability to do what they wanted, when they wanted. Several things frustrated me in those days. But I always wanted to be taller. But, even though I was 2nd oldest of 8 siblings, I was always the runt. Smallest baby, still the shortest--currently at 5'3"--lost 3/4" over the years, apparently. My four brothers range in height from about 5'11" to 6'3". My baby sister might be an inch (or less) taller and my two other sisters are 5'9" and 5'11". So you can imagine how jealous I've been of tall people. Then my 6'3" brother has 4 daughters and they're ALL tall! A couple of them, I think are close to the 6' mark. And they're all beautiful, too.
But then, I met Mr. Right, and he's 6'4". I don't get the whys but he told me he liked short girls. Well, he got one! Still, I digress.
I was always envious of people that were taller, more capable, better looking, and so on. Mind you, it didn't slow me down. I kept right on plugging away at life and somehow or the other, felt I could do just about anything I set my mind to doing. I finally realized, that getting taller just wasn't in the works for me and adjusted to my shortness. Then, when I was about 20 a guy who was rather short/slight himself, told me he "honestly" thought I was at least 5'8". It was flattery, to be sure, but he kept going and said that I had "the air" (???) of someone 5'8". So, I somehow felt better about myself.
Well, back to being 5 and going forward. At 15 I'd reached my full height (grew six inches one summer!!! How's that for a growth spurt?) and got hips, square, bony hips, but hips that same summer. Talk about awkward! At 20 I fell in love (with my husband of 38 years and counting) and realized that how tall I was didn't make much difference--unless we were slow dancing. What a crick I can get in my neck!!! But, still I love slow dancing with him--if-n-when we ever manage any more to do so.
I always looked forward to turning 40. Don't ask me why. I'm not sure I know, but I did. Then I turned 40, got deathly ill with pneumonia and almost kicked the bucket. Glad I didn't go there.
Turning 50 was interesting. I did feel a tiny bit slower. My memory (or the lack of instant recall, at any rate) was a little more frustrating. And that was the year I began writing love stories. It was great fun and very enlightening. I learned things about how some characters, once they're introduced, try to take over the story and take on their own personalities and how much you have to reign them in and redirect them. That was also when I learned that people could relate to what my characters did and that they learned things about themselves through my stories. Discussing my characters with my husband had many wonderful side benefits. I needed a man's perspective and would query him (often against his wishes) as to what he, or another guy, might do in one situation or another. It was really nice because we got a lot closer as a result.
Now, ten years later, I've hurtled into the 60's of my mortal existence. I can remember my grandmother when she was 60! It just startles me to think I've turned 60, less than 24 hours ago, and I can't remember how those years accumulated so quickly. So all of a sudden. On Saturday evening, while talking with a friend who's birthday is exactly one month after mine, I told him I'd let him know Sunday how "going over the hill" felt.
Well, big surprise. I passed over that threshold and--interestingly enough--it feels the same on one side as it did on the other. Whew!!!! Of course, my knees were a bit achy this morning. Must be due to all that walking I did over that last hilltop. Right?
At age 5 I knew I could do ANYTHING if I were only taller. I especially envied teenagers their height and ability to do what they wanted, when they wanted. Several things frustrated me in those days. But I always wanted to be taller. But, even though I was 2nd oldest of 8 siblings, I was always the runt. Smallest baby, still the shortest--currently at 5'3"--lost 3/4" over the years, apparently. My four brothers range in height from about 5'11" to 6'3". My baby sister might be an inch (or less) taller and my two other sisters are 5'9" and 5'11". So you can imagine how jealous I've been of tall people. Then my 6'3" brother has 4 daughters and they're ALL tall! A couple of them, I think are close to the 6' mark. And they're all beautiful, too.
But then, I met Mr. Right, and he's 6'4". I don't get the whys but he told me he liked short girls. Well, he got one! Still, I digress.
I was always envious of people that were taller, more capable, better looking, and so on. Mind you, it didn't slow me down. I kept right on plugging away at life and somehow or the other, felt I could do just about anything I set my mind to doing. I finally realized, that getting taller just wasn't in the works for me and adjusted to my shortness. Then, when I was about 20 a guy who was rather short/slight himself, told me he "honestly" thought I was at least 5'8". It was flattery, to be sure, but he kept going and said that I had "the air" (???) of someone 5'8". So, I somehow felt better about myself.
Well, back to being 5 and going forward. At 15 I'd reached my full height (grew six inches one summer!!! How's that for a growth spurt?) and got hips, square, bony hips, but hips that same summer. Talk about awkward! At 20 I fell in love (with my husband of 38 years and counting) and realized that how tall I was didn't make much difference--unless we were slow dancing. What a crick I can get in my neck!!! But, still I love slow dancing with him--if-n-when we ever manage any more to do so.
I always looked forward to turning 40. Don't ask me why. I'm not sure I know, but I did. Then I turned 40, got deathly ill with pneumonia and almost kicked the bucket. Glad I didn't go there.
Turning 50 was interesting. I did feel a tiny bit slower. My memory (or the lack of instant recall, at any rate) was a little more frustrating. And that was the year I began writing love stories. It was great fun and very enlightening. I learned things about how some characters, once they're introduced, try to take over the story and take on their own personalities and how much you have to reign them in and redirect them. That was also when I learned that people could relate to what my characters did and that they learned things about themselves through my stories. Discussing my characters with my husband had many wonderful side benefits. I needed a man's perspective and would query him (often against his wishes) as to what he, or another guy, might do in one situation or another. It was really nice because we got a lot closer as a result.
Now, ten years later, I've hurtled into the 60's of my mortal existence. I can remember my grandmother when she was 60! It just startles me to think I've turned 60, less than 24 hours ago, and I can't remember how those years accumulated so quickly. So all of a sudden. On Saturday evening, while talking with a friend who's birthday is exactly one month after mine, I told him I'd let him know Sunday how "going over the hill" felt.
Well, big surprise. I passed over that threshold and--interestingly enough--it feels the same on one side as it did on the other. Whew!!!! Of course, my knees were a bit achy this morning. Must be due to all that walking I did over that last hilltop. Right?
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